


Serious (as a Heart Attack)

by 27dragons, monobuu, tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Doctor/Patient, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Medical, Medical Inaccuracies, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/monobuu/pseuds/monobuu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony's in the hospital because he "fell" in his "workshop."Bucky's pretty sure that's not what happened.





	Serious (as a Heart Attack)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/gifts).

> We wrote/drew this for our friend, who's having some rough real life issues right now. We hope you, and she, enjoy it.
> 
> Art: Monobuu  
Story: 27dragons and tisfan
> 
> * bookmarked in [reader collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/IronSoldier_1)

The triage nurse clucked when she saw Tony’s face. She pulled out a stack of paperwork for him to sign, asked a few basic questions, name, address, insurance. The same sort of questions that cops asked, except cops didn’t care about his medical history. She took his temperature, measured his blood pressure. Stuck a little machine on his finger that measured his blood-oxygen levels or some such. It didn’t matter, because Ty was right there the whole time, his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Which meant when the nurse smiled sympathetically and asked, “so, what brings you in tonight, Mr. Stark?” Tony lied.

“Puttering in my workshop,” he said, pulling out his press smile, only to wince and drop it when it pulled on his aching face. “Got distracted, zigged when I should have zagged.” He waved at himself, bruises on his face already turning dark, his eye swelling. “It’s no big deal, really -- I’ve done worse -- except my vision is kind of... going weird. Flashing lights in my peripheral, color suddenly fading out... Figured I should have it looked at.”

Ty, of course, had been very solicitous when Tony’d complained about the strange vision problems. He was the one who’d insisted on the ER.

“Probably for the best, Mr. Stark,” the triage nurse said. “Have a seat in the waiting room, we’ll call you back as soon as we can.”

The waiting room was not a soothing place, and every bit of reflected light made Tony’s head spin. He ended up having to close his eyes, tip his head back, and while there was no way he could possibly sleep, he could probably fake it long enough to get in to see a doctor. Even closed like that, the ground seemed to spin and whirl around Tony’s stomach, until he wasn’t sure he was on solid ground. 

He swallowed hard, determined not to let the nausea overtake him, and put one hand on the seat of the chair next to him, trying to brace himself against the movement that wasn’t really happening.

Ty had been very sympathetic, made all the correct noises when they got there, but it seemed he was getting bored. Texting with some of his other friends, checking his online websites and social media accounts. Playing some phone app game high stakes poker. Every time his phone made the little _ching _sounds to indicate that he’d won money, it made Tony’s headache worse.

Not that there weren’t plenty of other noises in the waiting room to make things even worse. A baby crying and being shushed ineffectively. A teenager cradling what might have been a broken wrist to her chest, sobbing steadily, the terrible television show on the monitor in the corner. A homeless guy who came in complaining about chest pains, probably to get out of the weather, or maybe a meal, more than anything else.

Finally, “Mr. Stark.”

Even half blind and as headached as Tony was, he all but gaped at the nurse. “Barnes,” according to the neatly printed photo ID stuck to his chest, the man had a head full of rich, gleaming brown hair, raggedly cut in a way that looked intentional, excellent cheekbones, a jaw you could practically rest a shotglass on, and the bluest eyes Tony had ever seen. He had to forcibly not check to see if they were, in fact, bluer than Ty’s.

“Uh.” Tony stared for another few seconds, then realized he needed to answer. “That’s me.” He sat up, and a whimper slithered out of his throat as the change in position made his headache flare.

“Would you like a chair, Mr. Stark?” the nurse said, holding out a hand to steady him. “I can wheel you right on back, smooth as silk.”

“I can walk,” Tony said, and hoped that was true. He managed to get to standing while Ty was finishing up the level of his game or whatever, and took a tentative step. His knee buckled and he wound up falling -- more or less literally -- into the nurse’s arms. “Shit. Sorry, I... guess I’ll need that chair.”

“That’s all right, it’s been a boring shift. Having someone swoon into my arms is a trip for my ego. Come on, just a few steps and--” He snapped his fingers, or something. His hand made a soft clicking noise at any rate. Another nurse brought out a chair and Barnes kicked the brake and helped Tony into it, squatting down to help him put his feet on the rest. “Now, this is Bessie, she’ll be your ride for the tour of our glamorous Emergency Room. My name is Bucky Barnes, less glamorous, but I’ll be your nurse tonight. And… as soon as he’s done with the patient he’s discharging now, your doctor will be Sam Wilson. He’s mostly not an idiot, but don’t tell him I said so.”

“Is that because of the _mostly_ or the _idiot_ part of that sentence?” Tony wondered, trying to focus on something -- _anything_ \-- that wasn’t the way the chair’s movement sharply intensified the way he wanted to throw up.

Barnes snagged something from a cart on the side of the hallway he was wheeling Tony down and handed it to him, a kidney bean shaped silver bowl. “Might have a concussion, which sometimes makes people throw up,” he said, offhand. “Nothing to be ashamed of, but none of us want to wear it, either. Here we are, room number six.”

He pulled Tony up to the side of a hospital bed. “Give me just a moment, Mr. Stark--” He pulled a dry erase marker out of his scrubs pocket and wrote on the white board; There was a pre-printed form there, and he scribbled Tony’s vitals, name, and underneath, for doctor, he wrote _ Sammie _ and for nurse, he wrote _Winter._

“All right, then. Take your shirt off, any metal jewelry you’re wearing, and put on this gown, ties facing backward. Do you need help with that, or should I come back in a few minutes?”

“I’m hardly going to let anyone _else_ undress him,” Ty snapped, and Tony startled. He’d... forgotten about Ty, for a moment, almost.

He gave Barnes a quick, lopsided smile. “Got all the help I need right here,” he said. He waited until Barnes had left, closing the door with a quiet click, and said, “The man’s just doing his job, Ty. You don’t have to be so snappy about it.”

“Yeah, he can do it with his eyes elsewhere,” Ty said, running his finger under Tony’s jaw with that possessive sweep. “Don’t want anyone else seeing how beautiful you are.” Ty neatly unbuttoned Tony’s shirt, pulled it off and folded it. The tee went next, and Tony discovered his chest hurt worse than he expected, and he had to stifle a soft moaning sound when the sleeve stuck and tugged his arm. 

But the ridiculous hospital gown was on and tied up when Barnes came back a few minutes later. He had a hospital wrist band for Tony, and more forms. He listened to Tony’s heart and lungs with a stethoscope, put the monitor back on his finger and one of those automated blood pressure cuffs on. “I won’t hook you all the way up, we’ll do an MRI, get a look at your skull in a few minutes here,” Barnes said. “Want to tell me what happened?” 

“Workshop accident,” Tony said. “I build stuff. Lots of metal and scrap. Ought to be more careful.” That’s what Ty had said. _You should be more careful, don’t make me hurt you._

“Hmm,” Barnes said. “No lacerations, that’s lucky. Metal can be unpleasant that way.” He took Tony’s hands, looked at them from both sides. “Didn’t even get time to put your hands up. Hate falls like that, so unsettling. You’re fine, and then you’re not. Happens to the best of us, but man, I hate it. Squeeze my hands, tight as you can--”

The one hand felt different, and Tony glanced down to see metal fingers curled around his own, a sleek and supple wrist with delicate plates that clicked and slid as Barnes moved.

“Oh,” Tony said, surprised. “That’s gorgeous.”

“Heh, glad you like it,” Barnes said. “Custom-made; one of my friends in the hospital wanted to play guinea pig, so… she’s a real thinker. It runs off wi-fi, though. So you know, there go my dreams of retiring to Shelbyville, Indiana.”

Tony sputtered out a laugh that almost didn’t make his head hurt, until he spotted the way Ty was glowering. He made more of an effort to be less friendly, then, because the last thing he needed was for Ty to decide Tony was _flirting_ with the hot nurse and have one of his little jealous fits.

“All right, you just settle in, I’ll-- here, let me adjust this, you don’t want to lay down flat, that’ll make your stomach feel worse. And dim the lights, and Dr. Wilson will be with you shortly.”

***

Bucky frowned, pulled up one of the rolling stools and threw himself down in front of the computer. He tapped a few quick keystrokes and pulled up Stark’s patient history. Admitted four times in the last six months, always for accidents and not illness.

A set of x-rays on his right arm showed both a greenstick fracture five months ago, as well as scarring from at least two other breaks. A note in the file, the first two breaks were childhood accidents. _Falling off my bike, just clumsy. I should be more careful. _Stark had been ten.

In Bucky’s experience -- which was quite a bit more than made it easier for him to sleep, some nights -- domestic abuse victims came in two flavors. The ones who believed nothing like that would ever happen to them, and once it did, had trouble getting out because they were embarrassed and afraid. And ones who frequently ended up in other abusive relationships because it was all they knew that made sense.

“What’s up, Barnes?” Sam leaned one hip against the desk. 

“Got a frequent flier,” Bucky said. “I was just looking at how many miles he’s got racked up already.”

That was a code; the most sacred tennant of dealing with abuse cases was to _never_ engage unless you have an extraction plan for the victim. The last thing a health care provider wanted to do was give the abuser something else to be angry about. So they spoke in code, they waited until they got the patient alone, sometimes they brought in social workers on the side.

You couldn’t force someone out of a bad situation, but you could make sure they knew they had options. They didn’t have to stay.

And, like everything else in the medical field: _Do no harm._

Of course, there were other types of frequent fliers; people who came in regularly for STD testing -- who might be prostitutes, voluntary or otherwise. People addicted to pain killers who often self-harmed in order to get more. Hypochondriacs. People with chronic conditions that their regular doctors couldn’t identify and were still trying to find relief from their symptoms. But Bucky didn’t think any of those were the case here.

Stark was giving off all the signs of someone who was desperate to please his partner; and that desperation was often a mask for _fear_. Getting Stark to admit it, or do something about it -- that was the tricky part.

Sam leaned over to look at the record over Bucky’s shoulder. “That don’t look good.” He folded his arms, considering it. “Want me to order some extra tests? I’m half tempted to admit him for observation anyway. This isn’t a sleep-it-off level of concussion.”

Bucky rubbed his chin, tapped the keyboard a few more times, bringing up Stark’s medical insurance. The last thing they wanted to do was get the man into debt for a bunch of unnecessary tests that were designed just to keep him longer. Bucky blinked. “I need to recheck my assumptions at the door. Again. I usually think of domestic abuse cases as being low income.” He scooted back to let Sam take a look. “_That_ Tony Stark--” he said. “He could buy the whole damn hospital if he wanted. Yeah, let’s do it. The boyfriend will have to go pee or get something to eat, or sleep _eventually_.”

Sam whistled, low. “Yeah, he can afford whatever kind of test we want to throw at him. Good news, though -- someone that rich isn’t going to turn down tests just because of the money.” He clapped Bucky on the arm. “A’ight, I’m going in there.” 

Bucky looked over the list of incidents again, gathered a kit together to do bloodwork. The lab was already backed up; it always was. So, it might be a few hours before the tests were back anyway, even without Sam engineering _anything_.

_Routine tests, _he thought, practicing in his head_. Just a precaution. Probably won’t find anything worrisome._

There was always a surge of adrenaline that came with working the difficult cases. He took a few breaths so that he wasn’t talking too fast, or looking at the boyfriend suspiciously. Friendliness and light.

Stark was pale underneath the bruises, his lips pressed together and his body tight with pain. He winced at the light when he opened his eyes to look at Sam, and again when he tried to sit up. The boyfriend was slouched in the visitor’s chair, poking at his phone and looking irritable.

Sam introduced himself and started talking about light diffraction tests and optic nerve damage while Bucky made his way around to the side of the bed to take the blood samples. The boyfriend watched him closely, finger hovering over his phone screen but not actually tapping anything.

“Where’s your best vein?” Bucky asked, because patients frequently had a preference. Bucky was a good phlebotomist and he could get blood out of an orange, but when people were less nervous about needles, it was easier all the way around. He held up the kit. “Vampire collection agency. Any latex or iodine allergies?”

“No allergies.” Stark held out an arm. “This is the one they usually have the best luck with.”

Bucky tied the tourniquet in place with a practiced twist, dabbed the tender elbow with iodine. If Sam was going to order a fuckton of tests, he wanted to make sure they had enough blood. He didn’t bother to look, but his eyebrow twitched when he heard some of the tests that Sam was ordering. Of course potassium levels would probably be low; most Americans didn’t get enough potassium in their diet, including Bucky, because bananas were just gross. But unless they were dangerously low -- ah well, didn’t matter. Tests were tests. 

And Bucky recognized the type; the boyfriend was likely going to try to accompany them to Xray, at least.

Stark, at least, was a decent patient. He didn’t complain about the blood draw, he paid attention to the things Sam was talking about, and he nodded along when Sam recommended the extra tests.

“Is all this really necessary?” the boyfriend complained. “I really didn’t want to spend my _entire_ evening in this place.”

Stark didn’t quite shrink, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I’d like to make sure nothing’s going to get _worse_, Ty. I kind of need my sight and hands to do my job.”

Ty rolled his eyes and slumped farther into the chair. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just get it done as fast as possible. I’m running down my battery, here.”

“There are outlets in the waiting room,” Bucky suggested. “If you brought your charger with you.” There, that sounded nice and reasonable. A courtesy, rather than _go the fuck away_. He finished the draw, pressed a bit of cotton to Stark’s elbow. “Here, bend this for a minute.” Got a bandaid in place, and then started sticking labels on the tubes of blood. Funny, sometimes, how everyone’s life, and most things about them, could be discerned from a tube of blood, if you knew where to look.

“There’s a spare charger in the car,” Stark said. “Go on; I’ll be fine.” Bucky didn’t think it was concern for Stark that made Ty grumble and stay in his seat.

Bucky spared a glance for the racked row of outlets in the ER’s room. Most of the medical equipment ran on electric these days, and it was vitally important that some Wall Street jackass’s phone wasn’t charging if they needed one. Sometimes seconds could be vital. 

“All right, I’ll go take this to our head Nosferatu. Blood type A, his favorite. As soon as a slot opens up for the radiologist, we’ll get you over there and take a look at that noggin of yours, make sure nothing’s broken, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Stark agreed, and sagged back against the bed, eyes closing against the light.

“I’ll dim the lights for you,” Sam said, flicking the dimmer switch down again. “I’ll send someone in to check on you every half hour or so, but push the buzzer if you need anything.”

Bucky unwrapped the call button from the rack and put it directly into Stark’s hand. “Here you are. Can I get you a glass of ice water, or a ginger ale while you wait?” 

Stark shook his head. Without looking up from the phone, Ty said, “I’ll have a coffee.”

“There’s a vendateria down the hall, second door on the left,” Sam said. “This courtesy is for patients only. Otherwise, we have to charge your insurance. Sorry, sir.”

Ty’s lip curled, but he didn’t actually say anything. Nor did he get up to go get coffee.

Even if all of Bucky and Sam’s instincts were wrong and Ty wasn’t actually abusive, he was an utter _asshole_.

Whatever. Bucky got his testing kit and tubes all together, tossed the bloody cotton ball into the biohazard bin, peeled off his gloves with a sharp snap, and headed down the hall. Stopped in at radiation on his way back. “Hey, Nat, darling, sweetheart, light of my life…”

“What do you want?”

“Do I have to want something?”

“I suppose minor miracles might occur,” Nat said. “But usually you want something.”

You’re going to get a patient down here in a few minutes for a possible orbital socket crack. Hopefully we can ditch the overly attentive boyfriend. If so, I need… ten minutes privately.”

“Frequent flier?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. He claims he fell, but he’s got no cuts, no bruises on the hands, nothing that indicates actually smacking into something metal. And he’s super vague about the accident. Most people want to talk about falling down, every little detail.”

“That’s the brain’s way of processing trauma,” Nat pointed out. She’d done some pysch in college before she decided she’d rather deal with broken bones than broken brains. “Talking things out makes it real, and makes it past-tense.”

“Which is why I’m worried,” Bucky said. “Even if he doesn’t take us up on extracting him from a bad homelife, he needs to talk about it, so he can process it.”

“I’ll do what I can. Make it quick, we’ve got nine car accident victims coming in,” Nat said. “We’re going to be wedged in here like sardines.”

“Thanks, you’re a peach.”

“You owe me,” Nat told him.

“Stick in on my tally sheet.”

***

A few minutes after the doctor left, the nurse, Barnes, came back in to silence all the various machines that beeped and blipped and ticked. “I can’t do anything about the noise in the hall,” he said with an apology, “but we can keep it nice and quiet in here for you. Should be an orderly to take you down to radiology in just a few more minutes, Mr. Stark.”

There was something soothing about that voice, a deep rumble, soft, but it carried, with an accent that Tony couldn’t quite place, but it sounded like someone had polished all the rough edges off his words. It didn’t matter what Barnes said, Tony could have listened to him read a grocery list and felt better. Useful skill, probably one that he’d gained from working at an ER. But Tony could imagine him as a children’s librarian, maybe, reading books to little kids. That was a nice image.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Thanks for doing what you could.” He tried a bit of a smile, on the side of his face that wasn’t so tender.

Shortly, in Emergency Room time was frequently more than twenty minutes at least, so Tony was just getting cozed in and attempting to zone out when there was the faintest rap on the door, and the woman who stuck her head in with a cheerfully quiet, “Mr. Stark. I’m Jenn, I’ll be taking you down to radiology. Oh, not you sir, you can wait here. Patients only in radiology, it’s a hospital safety rule. I’ll bring him right back to you before you can blink.” She had black hair with green tips, and was by far the tallest woman Tony had ever seen with shoulders that looked like she could go toe-to-toe with professional linebackers. 

Ty looked like he was going to argue. Hadn’t they waited long enough already? “Babe, it’s fine,” Tony said. “You can take a break, get a snack, whatever.”

Ty set his mouth, then looked at the orderly and subsided. “Right, sure, whatever. I just want to make sure they’re taking good care of you.”

“I’m sure they will,” Tony said. “Best hospital on the entire Eastern Seaboard.” A reputation built, in part, on Stark donations. Tony had been born in this hospital. Maybe not this building, but the campus, at least.

Jenn got him into the chair, and it was astonishing how wobbly he was; he’d been feeling terrible when they went to the hospital, he was feeling worse now. She tucked the blanket around him, and then pulled out a pair of generic sunglasses from her scrubs pocket. “Barnes told me you were having light sensitivity problems, so I nicked these from our emergency optometry department, for after people get their eyes dilated.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tony said fervently. He took the ugly glasses and very gingerly balanced them on his nose. Immediately, his headache receded into something only mildly unbearable. “Thank god, that’s so much better. Thanks. And tell Mr. Barnes thank you for me, too.”

“Yeah, Winter, he’s keeping his eye on you, Mr. Stark,” Jenn said. She laughed a little. “Of course, you’re not in on our little joke here at the hospital. Barnes, we call him Winter. Kind of a nickname. And if you could just push that button for me, so I don’t have to reach over you-- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

The automatic doors swung open and she pushed him into a narrower hallway. “Nat’s going to be taking you in to get a full set of film and then, down to the MRI. Sometimes those skull fractures can be tiny. We don’t want to miss it. But hopefully it’s just a bad bruise.”

It wasn’t like it made much difference, as long as his skull wasn’t actively caved in. What were they going to do if there _was_ a fracture -- put his head in a cast? But it wasn’t like he was bothered. Let his very expensive insurance shell out some money instead of raking it in, for a change. And he’d always wanted to see an MRI machine at work. “But why Winter?” he asked, still stuck on that question. “When he put it on the board in the room, I thought maybe his parents had been hippies or something.”

“When Winter first came to work for us, he lived all the way out in Brooklyn. Do you remember the winter of 03? Five feet of snow in one evening. We were all buried up to our eyebrows. Well, not me, of course, but you know what I mean. Trains were closed down, public busses were mostly cancelled. So this-- brave idiot. Wraps himself up and _walked to work_. When he came in the door, he had more snow on him than he’d left on the sidewalk, like winter itself had come in the door.” She laughed. “He said… people needed him here to do his job. He cares about people. A lot.”

“Wow. That’s... really dedicated of him,” Tony said. And sweet. How was that fair, for the guy to be _that hot_ and also really nice? “Must be popular with the ladies.”

“Winter’s popular with everyone,” Jenn said. “Doctors, other nurses, the orderlies, the patients.” She glanced at the door. “Ack, someone snitched Nat from under us. She’s got someone in there right now. I have another patient I have to move from the ER up to overnight. Will you be okay right here for five minutes? She should be right out.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony promised. He resettled the sunglasses on his nose and settled into the chair.

Jenn patted his shoulder a few times, and the sound of her shoes on the floor faded.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” a gentle voice said a few minutes later. “They treating you okay?” It was Barnes, twisting into a squat near Tony’s wheelchair.

“Oh, hey, fancy meeting you here. Yeah, I’m good, just waiting on the x-ray tech, I guess. Nat, right?”

“Yeah,” Barnes said. “Can I talk to you about a personal matter? I just want to talk, give you some information. You don’t have to say anything, is that all right?”

“Uh, sure?” Tony tipped his head curiously.

“You know, when I was a kid, I lived across the street from a kid named Steve Rogers, good kid, you’d like him,” Barnes said. “His mom was a nurse, good, sweet woman. Might have inspired me to do what I do. But Mrs. Rogers ended up having a problem. She was sneaking painkillers out of the supply closet. Always wore long sleeved shirts, Mrs. Rogers, even hot as it could get. Sometimes sunglasses, for no reason. Lots of concealer. And it was like… everyone knew what was going on. But no one ever wanted to say anything. It wasn’t their business, things like that don’t happen to nice people. To successful people. She’s just… clumsy. Kid’s the same way, always banged up. Fell down the stairs, maybe. Tripped, fell in the workshop.”

Tony’s blood ran cold, and then hot, flushing his skin, bubbling in his veins and making his hands shake. “Is that what you think is going on, here?” he said. He tried to laugh, but it came out weak.

“Just making some conversation, Mr. Stark-- Tony. May I call you Tony?”

“I-- Sure, why not?”

“Thank you,” Barnes said. “I’m not making any accusations, or saying what I think about what might -- or might not be going on here. Why you came in tonight. Or several times, really, in the last six months. How long have you been dating your current boyfriend? About a year, maybe?”

“A little less than that,” Tony said. “That doesn’t mean... what you’re not saying.” His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I know,” Barnes said, soothingly. “What I do know is that, you don’t have to do this alone. People don’t usually like to get involved, they don’t want to believe it, so they ignore it. I don’t do that, Tony. If you need help, I will help you get it. There are… all sorts of resources, if you need help. Therapists. Social workers. Charity functions. Most of them are quite anonymous. No one would ever have to know. If… the thing I’m not saying… applied to you.”

Tony shot Barnes a scathing look. “You know who I am,” he said pointedly. “There’s no such thing as anonymity, not for me. Sooner or later, _everyone_ knows.” And how much sympathy would the general public have for him? Not a hell of a lot. Rich people weren’t allowed to have problems; Tony had learned that lesson early. “It’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“Well, it’s not fine,” Barnes said. “Did you know, there’s a therapy company called eCogent? They work with patients over the internet. Completely anonymous. Voice calls, or chat sessions. A patient could have complete privacy, do his sessions via text message while taking a lunch break. If you wanted to talk with someone about it. Trauma settles, Tony. You don’t talk about it, with someone? It becomes part of who you are. If you can’t trust a therapist, I hope you have a friend. Look, Sammie and I are going to try to keep you here tonight, routine tests, delays. You can have a break, for a little while. Be safe. Think about things. Okay? That’s all I want. You to be safe.”

Tony was absolutely _not_ tearing up over the idea of this beautiful, _kind_ man going out of his way to try to help Tony, being _worried_ about _Tony_. He wasn’t choking up or feeling... feelings. Of any sort. Thank god for the sunglasses.

“Right,” he said, and it came out as something of a croak. “I’ll... think about things.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Barnes told him. He rapped on the radiology door. “Nat, stop doing obscene things with chocolate and a romance novel in there and come take care of Mr. Stark, if you please. And be nice to him. He’s in a lot of pain.”

Well, _that_ was the truth. “Also, I’m very delicate and important and you should share your chocolate and trashy novels with me,” Tony added. Anything, not to dwell on that concerned look on Barnes’ face, the utter sincerity with which he was urging Tony to seek help.

To avoid the fact that he was... considering taking Barnes up on the offer.

Nat, a red haired nurse with black scrubs, grinned and offered him a box of chocolate covered cherries. “I’ll read you some of the particularly racy scenes if you promise not to move while I take pretty pictures of your skull.”

“I’m leaving you in very good hands, Tony,” Barnes said.

“Clearly,” Tony said, selecting a chocolate. “Okay,” he told Nat, “but you have to do the voices.”

***

“Hey, Bucky,” Sam said, reaching out to snag Bucky’s wrist as he made his way back to the ER. As compelling as Stark’s case was, he did have other patients to check on. Sam held up a file. “You may have saved a life tonight.”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure he went for it,” Bucky said, looking back down the hall.

“I don’t mean that,” Sam said. “Got the bloodwork back on Stark. Look at his troponin results, and the CK–MB and serum myoglobin tests. This man has probably been having micro cardiac arrests. For weeks. Did he complain about upset stomach, or heartburn?”

“No, I don’t think so. Pulse ox was a little low, blood pressure was good. Heart rate’s fast, but I thought he was nervous. White coat anxiety.”

Sam pushed the file toward Bucky. “We need to get him admitted. Right away.”

“I’ll let cardio know we’ve got something for them,” Bucky said. Crap, crap, _crap_. He wanted Stark to stay in the hospital, so he could be safe and sort through his situation in peace. The cardiac unit was no place for peace and quiet. On the other hand, the boyfriend could be easily kept out. And… he looked at the chart, Jesus, that was not good. He tucked the chart under his arm. “Make a hole.” He scurried down the hall back toward radiology.

Stark was done, just sitting in the wheelchair waiting for the radiologist to pronounce the pictures clean so he could be taken back to his room. He smiled when he saw Bucky, a small, lopsided kind of smirk. “Mr. Barnes,” he said. “You keep turning up here, you’re going to make me think you have a crush on Nat.”

Nat scoffed. “Bucky could not keep up with me,” she said. 

“Hey, Nat, tell me he doesn’t have a skull fracture, please,” Bucky said. 

“He does not,” she said. “He has some swelling --” she held up a film against the light board. “On the optic nerve. It’s what’s causing the light flashes and weird colors.”

“Well, that’s one thing, at least. Tony-- hey there, uh. Question. Have you been having heartburn, indigestion. Not related to your accident, just…. Recently?”

“Uh. A little?” Tony frowned. “I mean, there was that terrible wine we had at dinner last week, and then, well, I’m not twenty anymore; I can’t just eat hot dogs for breakfast, so...” He shrugged.

“Pressure in your chest? Trouble catching your breath? Pain, or numbness, particularly in your left arm?”

Nat had caught on, because of course she had. Tony was still blinking at him in confusion. “I guess, maybe.” He looked down at his hand, rubbed at it like he was testing. “Greenstick fracture when I was a kid; sometimes it just... does that.”

“Yeah, we don’t think that’s the case,” Bucky said, very gently. “Tony, we’d like to admit you for observation. To the cardiac unit.”

“What?” Tony glanced back at Nat, then turned back to Bucky and lowered his voice a little. “Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but I’m not about to take a bed and medical care away from someone who _actually needs it_ just to--”

“No, this has nothing to-- Mr. Stark, we think you’ve had a series of ongoing cardiac arrest. People think heart attacks are _boom_, this is the big one, but it’s not always like that. This is… your bloodwork, that we took, just to delay, came back with some very worrisome numbers.” Bucky made a face, damn it. He didn’t think Tony trusted him, not after the bomb he’d dropped. So used to being manipulated and told things for his own good, the sort of things that had him walking into his boyfriend’s fist more often than not, that he didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t. “If you want, we can transfer you to another facility, have them run the tests again, if you want a second opinion.”

“You’re... serious,” Tony said, staring at him through the horrible black sunglasses. “Like, this isn’t a delaying action.”

“It’s not a delaying action,” Bucky promised. “There’s a protein, called troponin, that ends up staying in the blood for a while after a cardiac event. We use it as an indicator that something might be wrong. I’m not saying you’ve had a heart attack, or several of them, but it’s very likely, and we want to put you under observation, run some cardio tests. Just to make sure. To start treatment, if you need it.”

“I...” He looked back over at Nat, who was watching with wide, solemn eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

“I know this is scary,” Bucky said. “But we’re going to take care of you. Text your boyfriend. You’re going to be in an Intensive Care ward, no visitors until tomorrow morning, at least. We can keep him out if you’d rather, just tell the nurse there and we’ll close your room to him. I’ll get Jenn over there, to make sure he finds his way out.”

He wheeled Tony into the elevator and punched the 5th floor. 

***

Tony pulled up his messages, not paying attention to the elevator or the walls. He stared at Ty’s picture for a minute, then tapped out a message. _Admitting me for cardiac event. No visitors until tomorrow. Go on home, see you then?_

The elevator doors opened. “This is us,” Barnes said, pushing Tony out into the ward. “This is Carter, and Coulson, they’ll be taking care of you from now on. Okay? Get better soon, Tony. It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait, you’re not--” Stupid. Barnes was a nurse on the ER ward; of course he wasn’t going to be taking care of patients in cardiac. “Yeah, uh. I. Nice to meet you, too.” Why had he sent Ty home with barely a thought, but watching Barnes walk away felt like being abandoned? “Winter!” he called, just as Barnes was about to step back into the elevator.

“Heh, I guess you caught that, huh?” He turned around, metal fingers grabbing the edge of the elevator’s portal. “People in this hospital gossip worse than old ladies.” 

“You literally wrote it on the board, downstairs,” Tony pointed out. “That... That thing we were talking about, before. Maybe you could get me some information?”

“My shift ends at 6, although I usually get caught up here for another hour or so, paperwork and last minute things, you know. I can… stop in tomorrow morning before I go home. See how you’re doing?”

Tony felt the corner of his mouth tick up. “That would be great.”

Carter got him set up in a private room, hooked up to about a million machines. His cardiac doctor was a formidable man by the name of Dr. Fury who came in wearing an eyepatch and looked like his favorite letter might be R.

He paused in the doorway to look threatening and then he took off the patch with a grin. “No, this is actually for you,” he said. “You have a bruised optic nerve. You see, the nerve behind your eyeball, it doesn’t feel pain. So when it’s hurt back there, all it does is what it knows how to do. Makes flashes of light and color. Keep your eye closed for a few days, it’ll heal up. Now… you and your heart have been making some very bad decisions here.” He sat on the edge of Tony’s bed. “We’re going to run some tests, and see how bad.”

“No more bacon cheeseburgers for me,” Tony guessed glumly.

“Everything in moderation,” Dr. Fury said. “Even moderation. Me, I love coffee. Love it. Used to drink it all day long, every day. Black, two sugars. Started giving me heartburn. I took antacids. But eventually, it got to the point that I had to decide; is the coffee worth the heartburn. Now, it’s up to you what you do with the information we give you. Do I still drink coffee? Hell yes. But now, I drink it, knowing the cost, and when I do, it’s because I’ve made an informed decision.”

“Ug, responsibility,” Tony sighed. “Go on, then. Do your worst.”

“Here’s my first worst,” Dr. Fury said. “Potassium supplements.” He put a little paper cup on the tray next to Tony’s hospital bed. “I’m told they’re horse pills on steroids. Choke ‘em down, and then we’ll get started.”

Tony peered into the paper cup. They were, indeed, enormous pills. He looked up and found Fury already holding out a cup of water. “Great,” Tony sighed. “Just... great.”

***

Bucky stopped at the hospital’s gift shop after his shift. A little sympathy bouquet with a balloon, nothing much. He had a staff discount.

So, of course, when he hit the visitor’s elevator to head up to cardiology, the doors opened, revealing Sam Wilson, his arms crossed over his chest and that eyebrow, climbing right up his forehead.

“And where, may I ask, are you heading with that?” Judging. He was already judging, Bucky could tell.

“Thought I’d stop by, see how Tony’s doing,” Bucky said, trying to keep it casual. “He had a scare last night. Probably good to remind him that people care about him. _Real people,_ not that douchenozzle.”

“_People_, huh?” Sam looked pointedly at the bouquet. “Uh-huh. Listen, Barnes, I know you, okay? You can’t let yourself get too attached.”

“Yeah, I know that’s not how this works,” Bucky said, shifting defensively. “I get to be the white knight, I don’t get to keep the princess. I know, okay. He just… looked lost. I don’t get it. Rich guy like that and it’s like, he’s got nobody but that… abuser? I just… wanted to give him some encouragement, okay?” 

“Mm-hm.” Sam eyed him. “You’re already attached, aren’t you?”

“Maybe, a little,” Bucky admitted. “He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s smart. He’s in a bad situation. You know how I get with the underdogs. And he needs someone to trust right now. He _asked_ me to come see him.” He wasn’t worried about the conflict of interests. He was an ER schlub, not some fancy doctor. Tony wasn’t even his patient anymore, and God willing, would never be again. He wasn’t being unethical. Nothing would come of it. Bucky knew that. He wasn’t stupid.

Sam eyeballed him for a long, uncomfortable minute -- why didn’t the damn elevator go faster? -- and then leaned against the wall with a sigh. “I’ll start stocking the vodka.”

“I’ll be fine, Sammie, I’m a big boy,” Bucky said. “Go on, go home. You been here even longer than me.”

“One of these days, I’mma quit this damn place and open up a private practice,” Sam said. “I’ll only work half days.”

“I’ll let you steal Nat if you promise to take me with you,” Bucky said. “G’wan, go home. Give Sharon my love.”

“You could visit once in a while, give it to her yourself.” Sam punched Bucky lightly on the arm and slid out.

“Yeah, I’m not playing poker with you two again, too rich for me,” Bucky said. “Text me, we can do dinner and Cards Against Humanity or something.”

Another floor and Bucky got out on the cardio unit. It was much, much quieter than in the ER. Three nurses, two of whom were chatting at the station, the other one doing rounds, probably. Observation wasn’t much work, right up until it was way too much work.

Bucky was glad he didn’t work in one of the other wards. Most of the time, with ER patients, he would see one for a few hours, and then never again. It didn’t hurt as much, when they didn’t go home. With an ER patient, Bucky never lost hope. Cancer and Cardio were some of the more depressing places in the hospital.

“Hey, just stopping in, you’ve got one of my boys from last night, wanted to see how he was doing,” he told the on shift lead.

“You mean the hot stuff in Room 512?” the other nurse piped up, fanning herself dramatically. “That boy is _trouble_. If he keeps flirting with everyone, we’re all going to need rooms up here ourselves.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Tony,” Bucky said. “I’ll let him tell me how you are treatin’ him. Visiting as a friend, not a nurse. He’s clear for visitors?”

The shift lead checked the computer, then nodded. “Yep, he should be finishing breakfast right about now.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s lovin’ that,” Bucky said. “Maybe I should have picked him up some real food-- do not throw that at me.” Bucky pointed a scolding finger at her. “I don’t want to drop the flowers. Thanks.”

He counted doors and stopped at twelve. Took a few deep breaths. Knocked lightly.

“I’m still dressed!” called Tony’s voice. He sounded much more cheerful than he had last night.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Bucky said, opening the door. “How are you doing?”

“Winter!” Tony was sitting up in the hospital bed, a half-eaten tray on the cart beside him. He grinned. “Come in, sit down, you’re probably exhausted. I got several hours of sleep and _I’m_ exhausted.”

“Yeah, I’m used to it,” he said. “ER staff, we don’t really sleep, we just drink more Red Bull. I uh, brought you a little something.” He sat the flowers down on the table. “Oh, you’ve got the lime jello. Don’t eat that, it’s… only a distant cousin from actual lime flavored.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s lime jello,” Tony said. “But the coffee is surprisingly drinkable.” He lifted a paper cup from the tray and took a sip with every evidence of blissful enjoyment, then reached out to pick up the flowers and look them over. “I don’t think anyone’s ever brought me flowers before,” he mused.

“Really?” Bucky asked without thinking. Flowers, or cupcakes, were Bucky’s go-to for gifts, pretty, cheerful, and didn’t have to be dusted.

“Yeah, you know how it is,” Tony said, eyes sliding away. “Did you, uh, bring that information?”

“Here,” Bucky shuffled around in his scrubs pocket and pulled out a business card. And a pamphlet. The pamphlet was something of a red herring; the outside of it looked like it was a survey for hospital care, the sort of thing that patients ended up with in their little bags of medicine and supplies and personal effects after they left the ER. Most people -- most abusers -- never looked through that stuff. They’d usually feel guilty about putting their victims in the hospital to start with. Not guilty enough to stop, mind you. But enough that they didn’t tend to look at discharge shit. Which made it the perfect place to hide.

Tony took them, looked at the business card intently for a moment, then tucket the pamphlet under the corner of his breakfast tray. “Thanks. I’m... not sure what I’ll do, but. It’s good to have options.” He fidgeted with the alignment of the tray on the table, not looking at Bucky directly.

“Yeah, I get that, I do,” Bucky said. “And I know this doesn’t really mean anything to you, not right now. But this -- the heart thing -- that’s not punishment for thinking about getting away from him. And you deserve better. Your partner’s supposed to be the one who looks out for you. Not forces you to _look out_. Okay? You deserve to be happy, and to be safe.”

Tony huffed a little laugh, then looked at Bucky sidelong. “You really are too good to be true, aren’t you?”

“I’m really not,” Bucky said. “But yeah, I mean, I help people. You do not take a job as an ER nurse if you’re a misanthrope.”

“I guess that’s true.” Tony grimaced a little and glanced around. “You probably want to go home and get some rest,” he said. “And you... probably shouldn’t be here when Ty shows up.”

Bucky felt the strange heat in his palm as the plates in his arm clicked from tension. He loosened his fingers. “The nurses can put you on family only for visitors, if you need an excuse. We’re always happy to be the bad guy. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to make trouble for you. But uh, if you’ve got a chance, use the internet, there’s some terms you should read, and think about. Gaslighting and isolating.” 

“I know what they are,” Tony said. “I just... never thought about applying them to myself.”

Bucky pulled the pamphlet out from under the tray and jotted his number down inside the first page. “That’s my personal number, Tony,” he said. “If you need anything, or you just want to talk, you can call me. Okay? Any time. About anything.”

_Dumbass, _he told himself._ You’re getting attached._ His internal monologue sounded a lot like Sam.

Tony picked up the pamphlet and subjected it to that same intense stare. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll... I’ll do that.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go. You need to rest. I’m off tomorrow, and if you’re still here when I come in on Wednesday, I’m gonna chase you home myself.” He gave Tony a wink. “Get better. Take care of yourself. You’re the only one of you in the whole world.”

“That was awful and cheesy,” Tony said, and he looked happier about it than any time Bucky had seen him before. “I’m beginning to regret this.”

“If the worst thing about me is that I’m prone to being dramatic sometimes,” Bucky said with a shrug, “then I must be doin’ something right.”

He thumped the door twice with his hand as he left, feeling oddly… cheerful. Better. Tony, yeah, he thought Tony might just be okay.

***

Tony had known that Ty was an arrogant, self-centered prick. It hadn’t mattered, he’d told himself, because Tony was also, pretty frequently, an arrogant, self-centered prick. At least, in public.

But somehow he hadn’t really registered just how _much_ of an ass Ty could be.

“Christ, Ty, they’re just doing their jobs. They’re not interrupting us just to stop you from telling your story.” He looked up at the nurse currently taking his blood pressure and rolled his eyes. “Excuse him. He’s... worried about me.” Not that Ty had _said_ that, but it was probably true. Wasn’t it?

Ty didn’t bother to acknowledge the nurse, who thanked Tony quietly, and slipped away, just went on with the latest bit of gossiping -- they called it _networking_, these days, but it really was the same shit that people had been doing as long as there were people -- he’d been privy to. A mix of self-congratulatory back patting and seething envy and bored contempt. The way Ty treated everyone.

Tony couldn’t remember, really, why he _cared _about who Paris Hilton’s driver was sleeping with. 

Finally, Ty wrapped up the story and Tony said, “So there’s some changes we need to make at the apartment, when I come home.”

Ty stiffened. “What, like redecorating? I mean, sure, just, leave the kitchen alone. And my bar. I love my bar, I don’t want to change a thing. Spent good money, installing it. So-- did I tell you what this joker, Alexei, said to me at work, after you missed the party last night? Too bad, it was a really good one--”

“I mean,” Tony said, overriding Ty, “that I want to install some panic buttons, in case I have another attack. And clear out the spare bedroom for a gym. And probably I’m going to need another shelf in the medicine cabinet for all the drugs they’re putting me on.”

“Are you telling me, personally, me, to clear out the spare room? What do I look like, a moving buddy?” Ty puffed up. “What do you mean, another attack? This is. This is _nonsense_, Tony. You are perfectly healthy.”

Tony sighed. “Of course you don’t have to clear it out yourself,” he said. “We can hire someone to do it. And I’m _not_ perfectly healthy. I literally have had three heart attacks in the last four days! Minor ones, but that just means a big one is all the more likely. It’s... it’s going to be a lot of changes, Ty. I’m going to need your support on this.”

Ty gave Tony that sunny, sparkling little smile. The one that said he’d be only too happy, that what he wanted, most of all, was for Tony to _be happy_. “What sort of changes, baby? I mean, you’re still my Tony, right?”

Tony wondered if that was still true. He wanted to believe that smile, so much, sweet and loving. “Of course,” he said. “I just... There are some dietary restrictions I need to follow. And more regular exercise. And the meds... A couple of them, they said, might affect my sex drive for a little while, while I’m adjusting.”

Ty scoffed. “Well, we can deal with that, I suppose. Sex is good excercise, maybe we can make it work anyway. You can always just take care of me.” 

Tony paused, staring. “Or... you could just be patient, since I’m literally _still in the hospital_, Jesus. It’s only a couple of weeks, probably.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re in the hospital,” Ty said. He looked like he was about to say more when the floor nurse poked her head in, Nurse Carter. 

“Sorry sir, visiting hours are closed again,” she said. “Mr. Stark needs his rest. You can come back at five.”

For a moment, it looked like Ty was prepping himself for one of his little fits, which Tony almost wanted to see. He’d heard about Carter -- Barnes had been right about the gossip in the hospital -- who’d once disarmed a gang banger who tried to break into the ICU ward to finish off the man he’d shot. 

He took a deep breath. “No, actually,” he told Nurse Carter. “He can’t.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ty’s haughty expression disappeared as if it had been wiped off a dirty window.

“I mean, I’m tired of you acting like my being sick is an _inconvenience_,” Tony said. “And I’m tired of the way you treat me. I don’t... I don’t have to live like that. Luckily for you, I expect to be here for another day or two, so you have some time to get your shit and get out of my apartment.”

“You’re dumping me?” Ty’s voice shot up several decibels.

“Sir,” Nurse Carter said. “You can leave now.” She indicated the door with a graceful sweep of her hand. 

“You’re taking his side in this?” Ty demanded, like Carter had any reason at all to be on Ty’s side.

Carter looked Ty up and down like he was some interesting specimen or insect. “Normally, this is the part where I’d say I don’t care about anything except the well-being of my patients, but in this case, yes, I’m on Mr. Stark’s side. Go home. Don’t come back. Or I’ll call security, and believe me, you won’t like that.”

Ty huffed. “Your supervisor will hear about this,” he threatened.

“Yes, she will. From me.”

Ty didn’t quite slink out, but it wasn’t the dignified storming that he was probably hoping to project, either.

Carter watched him go, then, “Are you all right, Mr. Stark?”

“I can’t believe I did that.” Tony’s heart was rabbiting and he felt weirdly detached and light, like an unanchored balloon. “I can’t believe I...” He laughed, and it came out fast, high-pitched. “I might be in shock.”

Carter strode over to the bed, took Tony’s wrist with one practical hand and checked his pulse. “You seem all right to me.”

“I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Reliable eyewitness report says you did,” Carter said. “If you’ll be all right for a few minutes, Mr. Stark, I need to alert security and the floor supervisor that we have a visitor ban.”

“Yeah, you go do that,” Tony agreed. He pulled his phone closer with one shaking hand and tapped out a text to Winter. _I dumped him._

New text from Winter: _::thumbs up emoji:: how r u feeling _

_Weird. Relieved. A little scared._

New text from Winter: _Want a friend to come sit with u_

New text from Winter: _its my day off_

Tony stared at his phone. Such a simple, easy offer. And nothing Ty would ever have considered. He bit his lip and answered, _Yes, please, if it’s not interrupting something._

New text from Winter: _nope just scrolling the internet_

New text from Winter: _checked the smaller, more portable internet. Nothing interesting there either._

New text from Winter: _takes 38 minutes to get to the hosp. See you in 45._

Tony glanced at the clock on the wall and tried not to grin like a loon. Forty-five minutes.

It was, in fact, slightly less than an hour when Winter rapped on the door. Tony wasn’t sure why he expected to see the man in scrubs, since he’d said it was his day off. He was wearing sinfully tight jeans, and a tee shirt with a unicorn on it that said “I will stab you” on it. “Sorry I’m late, I stopped by radiology on my way up.” He held up a battered paperback book. “Nat thought you might be dying to find out what happened to -- is this for real? -- mysterious time-traveling Viking vampire Erik Thorson and his lover, Bailey.”

Tony gasped and held out one hand imperiously. “Give it! I’ve been trying to figure out how they’re going to reconcile the...” He broke off at Winter’s somewhat dubious look and shrugged. “It’s stupid, but it’s fun. Are you sure I’m not breaking into your plans? Important errands to run? Hot date later?”

“Nah, I was playing Halo and alternately checking social media to see if anyone had posted any new cat memes,” Winter said. “If you want, I can read it to you. I’m not as good at the voices as Nat is, but it’s company, and you don’t have to make conversation while you… have your emotional stuff going on. If you’re really good, I might have a couple of her chocolates stashed away, and you can have one. You gotta watch your diet, especially right now.”

“You are my new favorite person,” Tony declared. “You don’t have to read the trashy novel if you don’t want to. Time-traveling Vikings and vampires aren’t for everyone.”

“Nah, I don’t mind,” Winter said. “We all pass this shit around all the time. It can’t possibly be the worst one I’ve read. You don’t have lots of time, you know, on breaks. Or sometimes, you just need to read something really stupid after a bad day. I work in the ER. It’s life and death, every damn day. None of us want our reading material to be super heavy.”

“That makes sense,” Tony said. “My job isn’t life-and-death so much, but it can be pretty heavy on the stress anyway. It’s nice to just relax with something that doesn’t involve too much thinking.”

Pulling the uncomfortable-looking chair closer to Tony’s bed, Winter thumbed the pages until he got to where Nat had folded down the corner. He gave Tony a quick smile and started to read. 

***

The thing about emergency room work was that every day was different, and every day was the same. He took vitals, he drew blood. He talked scared teenagers through their first car accidents, and helped little old ladies with broken hips. He dealt with worried parents and angry people who thought the doctor should just be able to give them a pill to make everything better.

He drank Red Bull by the case, and read trashy romance novels on his breaks. Went to Sam’s for dinner and cards. Played Halo with his online friends.

Not a glamourous life, no. He kept up with Tony Stark’s doings in the papers and gossip websites. And kept up with him more personally. They texted. Nothing much, just hi, how are you. Most of the time. Bucky’d ended up texting him one time for hours after there was a bad school bus accident. They’d lost three patients that night.

But, at the end of the day, Bucky usually felt like he’d done more good than not, and he loved his job.

Most of the time. This particular morning, he was exhausted and a little bit cranky. They’d had two bad calls, and it was a full moon or something, because there were dozens of patients. Sam had pulled him to keep him on, and he was going on hour nineteen when things finally slowed down.

He flopped in a chair. He could go, but for a minute, he just needed to _rest_. 

Which, he knew was trouble; if he lingered too long, he’d end up pulling a full double and he hadn’t done that since his internship.

There was a noise toward the front of the Emergency Room. Curious voices and something vaguely excited.

Bucky kept his eyes closed.

“Oh, geez. Maybe I should come back later.” That was closer, and sounded like... Tony? Bucky peeled an eye open. Tony was standing just out of arm’s reach, wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and a pair of rumpled jeans that looked old and soft. He was holding a large bakery box in one hand, and a bundle of flowers in the other.

“Tony?” Bucky asked, not sure of what he was seeing. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes like a sleepy toddler. “Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. How ya been?”

“Better,” Tony said, smiling. “In more ways than one. I was just upstairs for a checkup with Fury.”

“Yeah, get your ticker back online?” Bucky wondered. Medication and lifestyle changes had been effective, according to Tony’s texts and Bucky had resisted pulling up the man’s medical history a few times, just to make sure he wasn’t exaggerating. Trust was difficult to build if someone knew you were sneaking around behind their backs. “So, what are you doing down here?”

“Clean bill of health, Fury says,” Tony told him, grinning. “I thought I’d come down to say thanks to the team that found the problem in the first place.” He hefted the bakery box. “I’m told cookies is a good gift at a hospital. Not too messy, keeps a while, but doesn’t clutter things up too much.”

“Fastest way to a nurse’s heart,” Bucky declared, opening the box greedily. “Ooooh, nice. I’d say you shouldn’t have, but no, really, you should have. Thanks. Come on, I’ll show you to the breakroom and page Dr. Wilson. Sammie’ll be glad to know everything’s checking out for you.” He clambered to his feet a little less gracefully than he would have liked. “So often, you know, this line of work, we get you through the crises, but then, you never really know what happens. Good things, you hope.”

“Well, you knew I was okay,” Tony pointed out. “I mean, more or less. All the changes were a hell of an adjustment. And I had to have some work done at my apartment after Ty trashed it on his way out.” He rolled his eyes. “Prick. I can’t thank you enough for helping me see the light. Which, ah, brings me to my other mission.”

“I knew what you were telling me. And what the gossip rags wanted to share. That’s not really, you know. The same.” Bucky took a long moment just to look at Tony. He was a whole new man, and not just because he wasn’t wearing a hospital gown. He held himself better, looked healthy, looked… almost happy. Hopeful. “It’s good to see you in person.” Bucky wasn’t going to say _how good_. Tony was a ridiculously good looking man, charismatic and just… like being in the room with a genius rock star.

“Yeah, ditto,” Tony said. He glanced around the break room as Bucky pushed the door open. It was deserted -- the other nurses who’d worked late had run for home as soon as the shift lead had cleared them, and the on-shift ones were catching up on all the lower-priority stuff they’d had to let slide during the rush. “I was hoping we might do some more of that. In person, that is. Maybe... over dinner?” He offered the flowers to Bucky with a somewhat lopsided smile.

_Don’t get too attached. That’s not how this works. You get to be the white knight, you don’t get to keep the princess._

“Wait, are… like, dinner? Um. A date? I don’t. You know, want to read this wrong, if it’s a date, or if it’s just… you saved my life, thank you,” Bucky stammered, but he took the flowers anyway. They were a lot higher quality blooms than the hospital gift store bundle that Bucky had brought up for Tony. Smelled sweet.

“Like a date,” Tony confirmed. “You know, if you want. If not, no harm no foul, but I... You’re gorgeous, you know that? Like, I noticed it the very first time I saw you. And then you were such a good person, and you’re kind of a dork, which is a point in your favor, and... I almost asked you out a couple of months ago. But I thought, you deserve someone who’s got their head on straight, or at least isn’t stuck in a weird cycle of dependence and abuse, so...”

Bucky’s eyebrow went up, not with surprise, but with admiration. “You got a therapist. Good for you.” He glanced down at the flowers again, and then at Tony. With his old tee that Bucky did not think he was wearing ironically, and his beat up sneakers, he could be anyone. “You know I’m not on your level, like, at all, right?”

“Are you talking about money, right now? Because yeah, I know nurses are criminally underpaid. But you don’t have to be rich for me to like you. Ty was rich, and look how that turned out.” Tony made a face. “Or-- I mean, the celebrity thing freaks people out sometimes, that’s. That’s valid.”

“I’m not,” Bucky stammered, “you know, I’m not freaked out. I’ve seen your ass peeking out of a hospital gown. We’re all bodies underneath the facade. I just. I don’t want to embarrass you. But I would like… you know. A date. That’d be nice. I like you. And my dating opportunities are a little limiting sometimes. My schedule, you know. It’s a bear.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of insane,” Tony said. “Luckily, I make my own schedule. Mostly. My PA tells me if there’s anything I absolutely have to go to. That woman is terrifying. You’ll probably love her.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, then somewhat belatedly put the box of cookies down on the counter and glanced back at Bucky with a somewhat giddy grin. “So, date. Dinner. Yes? They said you were just coming off a shift-and-a-half, so probably not tonight, but tell me when you’re free.”

“Not tomorrow, gotta crash six hours and get back in,” Bucky said. “How’s Tuesday? I’ll be coming off a shift, but I won’t have to report back in until Friday morning.”

“It’s a date.” Tony bounced a little, looking like a kid with a lollypop, and looked around again, like he was startled to still be in the break room. “I should let you, you know. Sleep and stuff. I’ll text?” He took half a step back toward the door.

“Yeah, it’s a date. Hey, if you value your health and well being, snitch a few of these cookies an’ head down to radiology. Nat’s on shift for another few hours, I think.” Bucky took Tony’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “And uh. If we’re dating, you uh. Should probably call me by my real name, and not my work nickname. It’s Bucky. Please.”

“Bucky,” Tony repeated. He cocked his head and studied Bucky again, as if the shift in name might change how Bucky looked. “Okay. But I assume there’s some sort of story that goes with that, which I expect to learn at some point.” He snared a paper towel and started loading it with cookies for Nat.

“It’s not a first date story,” Bucky teased. “Just so you’re aware.” He grinned, leaned in quick, and kissed Tony’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

Tony touched his cheek with his free hand, smiling helplessly. “Can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> * Medical stuff done with some quick research and are probably inaccurate. Any mistakes are the results of author’s lack of medical degree.
> 
> ** https://www.amazon.com/My-Viking-Vampire-Sanctuary-TX/dp/1945417056/


End file.
